At A Glance
by KricketWilliams
Summary: Despite everything, they always held each other's interest at a glance. Rossi and Strauss at the Christmas Party. Written for the Christmas Gift exchange for Whatif-ifonly


AN: This is a pinch hit for _Whatif-ifonly_ for the CCOAC's Christmas Gift Exchange...Merry Christmas! I hope you like the story!

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Prompts: 'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime, spiked eggnog, gingerbread men, and snow.

**At A Glance **_by KricketWilliams_

He could see her from a distance, placing what looked like perfectly made cookies onto the table at the FBI third floor party. It surprised him. He would've expected cookies from Garcia (she made them often), or even from Jennifer, since he remembered baking cookies with his mom when he'd been a little boy eons ago, but Erin Strauss?

Slowly, he walked closer, trying to see what kind of cookies she'd brought to the party. He saw some white, powdery cookies that had to be Russian teacakes, some delicious-looking spritz cookies that looked so buttery, they almost melted onto the table, and some intricately decorated gingerbread people. He'd eaten very little all day, knowing the party was tonight, and against his will, his stomach growled.

"You can wait for the party, David," she groused, not even bothering to look over her shoulder.

He blinked and then regained his composure—and his snark. It was his defense mechanism whenever he had to deal with Erin.

"Channeling your inner Martha Stewart?" he quipped.

In typical Strauss fashion, she scoffed and replied, "In or out of jail?"

"Oh, I don't know," he drawled, reaching around her for a tasty teacake. "I think I'd like to see you in bondage."

She slapped his hand before he even touched a cookie and then turned to glare at him. "Not going to happen."

He smirked. "The cookie or the bondage?"

"Both," she balked. "And your discussion needs to be appropriate—"

"Nah," he interrupted, waving his hand and then holding his watch-clad wrist in front of her eyes. "It's after hours."

She rolled her eyes. "I knew better than to try to discipline you."

Grinning, he raised a finger to accentuate his point. "Yet, you still tried..."

She huffed. "Go bother someone else."

"But I'd rather bother you," he replied, only half teasing. Truth be told, getting Erin's goat was the highlight of his days at the BAU. For the past month, getting Erin in his bed was the highlight of his nights. They'd fought like cats and dogs for years, and finally, one evening, the anger exploded into passion...on his desk...and then her desk...and then in his car...and then his bed. Once a week, a different place each time. The next morning, they were back to being adversaries...but he knew she didn't truly hate him any more than he hated her.

She didn't have a comeback for his last quip, or she chose not to retort, which wasn't any fun. He looked at her cookie tray and saw a rather dapper-looking gingerbread man wearing a bow tie with a handsome goatee. He pointed at it. "That one looks like me."

Unceremoniously, she picked the cookie up and bit the head off it.

He chuckled. "Ouch, Erin. You wound me."

"Don't you have punch to spike?" she snapped. "Something else you bad boys do at parties?"

"Haven't been around too many bad boys, have you, sweetheart?" He leered at her. "We have many better things to do at parties..."

Immediately, he thought of all the things he'd like to do at that party: dancing until midnight, sneaking into corners, drinking the eggnog—he'd spike a separate batch later—from a beautiful woman's lips...

The woman he'd most like to engage in those activities with heaved an irritated sigh. "David. I'd like to enjoy this party."

"And you can't with me around?" he joked.

"No."

The tone, said so flatly and so finite, struck him hard. He wasn't the kind of man that begged a woman for companionship—even one that he seriously enjoyed being with—so he chose his words wisely.

"Very well. I'll leave you alone."

As he turned to walk away, he heard a very quiet response from her...one that confused him and made him angry, too.

"Thank you."

* * *

Hours later, Erin listened to the music at the party and chatted with Penelope Garcia. The bubbly tech was an easy person to talk to in general, but especially now, since she'd been drinking the eggnog.

She snorted. She'd been right about that when it had come to David.

She glanced across the room and saw him talking with Jennifer Jareau, and her heart ached in her chest. He was a dangerous soul; she was right to push him away. He was only going to hurt her in the long run, even more than he'd already hurt her. Someone like her having an affair with someone like him was foolish. Despite being a strong woman who'd clawed her way to the top, she was decidedly old-fashioned when it came to love. She didn't fall into bed with someone unless they held strings to her heart. Romance and sex went hand in hand for her, and for David, it was a steam release. Like the valve on her teapot—lift the handle and _poof!_ Instant gratification. She wasn't cut out for this, not when his pot could bubble with any woman there at any given time.

Just then, David laughed, his smile lighting that side of the room. Her heart felt a twinge again. He was obviously having a great time.

"This cookie is sooooo uberliciously good!" Penelope gushed, waving a teacake. Powdered sugar coated her ruby-painted lips.

"Hey, mama," Agent Morgan purred as he stepped near them. "Can I have some of that sugar?" He gestured to the cookie table and gave a faux-innocent grin.

Penelope giggled and looped her arms around his neck, giving him a "come hither" look with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. "I got all kinds of sugar for you, stud...not just the powdery kind."

Morgan had the good graces to blush. "Had a little too much to drink, baby?"

"Just the yummy eggnog."

A bad boy himself, Morgan chuckled, knowing what Erin herself knew about that drink. "Ma'am... You don't mind if I take Penelope away for a moment?"

"By all means."

Erin sighed as she watched them walk away. Now that the constant chatter was gone, it was time for her to go home. Perhaps she'd draw a bath, listen to some carols and hymns as she soaked away? She had a new classical Christmas CD that had "T'was in the Moon of Wintertime" she'd like to try.

Heading to the hallway, she slid her jacket and her scarf on. It had been a successful party, and she was glad she'd come. If she kept telling herself that, she'd believe it.

As she stepped outside the building, fresh snow was falling. It was a beautiful snowfall, with lacy, intricate snowflakes that would melt the second they touched the ground. Closing her eyes, she turned her face up to the sky and felt a few flakes land on her cheeks and eyelids.

"I missed you tonight."

Turning to face him, she drew a quick breath and looked at the owner of the warm, velvet voice that had addressed her.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, too stunned to think of a comeback.

His hands were in the pocket of his long trench coat, and the white scarf he wore set off his swarthy, olive skin to perfection. "The same thing as you: going home."

"Why?" Inwardly cursing her breathless tone, she stiffened and retorted, "Too much eggnog?"

"No." He was coming closer to her, and she fought the urge to turn and run.

"Well...why, then?"

He cocked an irritating, omniscient brow. "Does it matter?"

"No!" she snapped. The response threw her off guard. "I mean, you were obviously having a good time in there."

"I'm glad you noticed me," he said.

She stiffened. "I—"

Before she could say more, he continued, "I noticed you, too. I noticed you looked unhappy, resigned, lonely—exactly how I was feeling,"

Sucking in her breath didn't help; the world was reeling around her. He was lonely, too? In a room full of his dear friends and coworkers, and several available women, he was lonely?

In that room full of people...he'd missed her.

He stopped only an inch away from her, his dark espresso eyes holding her prisoner and adding to the intensity around her. "Why did you push me away, Erin?"

"I...I..."

Erin swallowed hard, and tears rushed to her eyes. She couldn't think of a response, anything to snap back at him, to keep her heart safe.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart," he added softly, cupping the side of her face in his hand. "The time for that is done between us, don't you think?"

She looked at his gentle smile, felt the warmth in his touch, and for a moment, let the guard around her heart drop. "Don't hurt me, David. I've been hurt too much in my life."

"Never," he swore swiftly. "You're precious to me, Erin. I don't know when or how you became so important to me, but you have. My best moments are ones we have together." He paused, and his smile turned wry. "Even when we're fighting."

She could speak to the truth of that; those were her best moments, too. She smiled up at him, the same wry smirk that he had. "Especially when we're fighting."

Dave chuckled and then gave her a potent peck on her lips before putting his arm around her waist. "Your place this time?"

Snuggling into his side, she put her arm around him, too. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
